Caught in a Double Standard
by Kyrian Cristie
Summary: A secret society still thrives within the Fire Nation after the final war. Zuko gets caught into their web of lies. Katara finds out and makes to tell him, but what happens when she has to make a trade to keep Zuko alive? hope that didn't suck
1. Chapter 1

_**O.o.O.o…FULL SUMMARY ARE STORY INFORMATION…o.O.o.O**_

_**Title: **__Caught in a Double Standard_

_**Category**_: Avatar: Last Airbender  
><em><strong>Genre<strong>_: Romance/General  
><em><strong>Pairing<strong>_: Zuko x Katara  
><em><strong>Rating<strong>_: Mature (M)

_**Full Summary**_: After the final war, a subsequent era of peace was expected. But there is still a battle for equality, for full liberty. Ghosts of Zuko's past, still haunts him; making him cleave to the remnants of bitter anger. With this as an advantage, the secret society within the Fire Nation draws him in. His vulnerability causes his guard to go down…especially when the elite helps him to find his mother.

But only Katara has found out the truth behind the society's insidious schemes.

Will she be able to turn him against the people he now devoutly trusts before they kill her; or will he remain a pawn in their hand until they kill them both?

**Okay, so there is the summary. I fail at neatening it; I've written and crossed out again and again and that was my best. –taps pen- ANYWAY, on to the first chapter. I thought of a Prologue but then my mind went blank. -.-"**

**Chapter One**

**By**: _Kyrian Cristie_

Zuko groaned from the irritation of the glare of the sun through the opened blinds. Eyes cracking open, he cast a hostile glance at the window then turned over. His mind disoriented, he'd forgotten the fact of sharing his bed with his betrothed and frowned at the contact of bare skin on skin. Moving back, he blinked down at the stirring girl – whose mass of straight and jet-black hair fanned out on the pillows. She mumbled his name and, even with such close proximity between them, her coherent mumble sounded distant.

Levering himself up on his elbows, Zuko grimaced as tight spasms of pain moved through his chest. Clamping his teeth together, he forced back his agonized grunt and slowly, got out of bed. He looked around the expanse of the master bedroom and frowned. His clothes, along with Mai's, were scattered across the deep red, carpeted floor. It connoted telltale signs of their urgency the night before to his mind, which was still unclear. Picking up his silk pants, he tied the band at the waist on his way to the bathroom. A hand braced against the doorframe, he braced his weight against it for awhile. The pain in his chest became gradual and a sharp shudder rocked his body. Licking his lips, he pushed himself from the frame and continued into the bathroom.

Three weeks. It had been three, damned, weeks and still his chest was painfully haunted by Azula's shot. The medicinal herbs and creams his physicians had made and prescribed for him did nothing to soothe him. What assuage it did bring was always temporary – too temporary. Turning on the faucet, he sluiced his face twice then went through the monotonous routine of beginning his day. There was a lot on his mind. The nations were still recovering from the aftereffects of the last and culminating war. He had a lot of work to get done.

There were legal forms to be signed, refugee release forms, stamping of documents to publish legality and new rules to be stipulated. His role as firelord did not leave an exhilarating impression as it had before at the prospect. On the contrary, it left him unnerved. The water beat down on him like icy pinpricks. It raised goose bumps on his flesh but lethargy didn't allow even the slightest use of his firebending to warm himself. Twisting the sliver taps, the water receded to just drips then stopped altogether. The drain made a loud sucking sound as he drew back the shower door. Stepping out from the shower, he dragged his towel from its rack and wrapped it tightly around his lower half. Rivulets of water studded his skin; his hair clung to his face, the ends dripping.

Walking out the bathroom, he stopped short as dark, deep yellow orbs rested on the women now awake. Her eyes were rosy from sleep, and seeing him, Mai smiled drowsily and stretched. The sheet was dropped to her waist, baring her naked body for his viewing pleasure. Zuko was not enthused. His gaze bore right through her, like a silent message that conveyed his disinterest at that point. Mai smiled over at him nonetheless. He had been wonderful to her the night before and for the past weeks they had been together. But when he didn't return it, she frowned. Usually, even if he didn't return the smile, he would respond with a smirk.

Zuko's austerity stemmed from his inundation. There was too much to be dealt with, his sleep the past nights had been haunted. He just wanted peace, and not for it to evanesce as it always did but just stay. Permanently. Going to the vanity, he opened the drawer and pulled out his undergarments. As if on cue, his valet knocked promptly on the door.

The day had begun.

"Zuko…?"

Impassive eyes looked at her poised and still reflection. He ignored the concerned and quizzical look on her face and moved to the door.

"Get some clothes on," he said; and without preamble, opened the door for the valet to enter. The man bowed deeply and held out his hands, which held Zuko's garments for that day. Mai grabbed for the sheets, clutching them to her breasts. Her face flushed from the suddenness of that and she glared at Zuko's back as he disappeared in the adjoining changing room. Her lips puckered into a pout and her brows drew together as her face fell into a pensive pout. What was wrong with him? He'd been fine all this time. Why such a sharp transition from a happy and nonchalant attitude to…this?

She would ask but such cold austerity would only induce irritation from him, if she were to bother him. Mai knew he would term her concern as petty then dismiss her. During the days, leading up to and of, the war, Zuko had been that way to her on few occasions.

Licking her lips, she waited until the valet left the room with Zuko's dirty laundry before getting out of the bed and shrugging on her velvet robe. Tying the sash at the center, she pulled her hair from within the garment and tossed it to rest over her shoulders. Walking towards the room, she leaned in the doorframe and watched him. He seemed to be struggling with getting his hands through the sleeves. His grunt of pain piqued her concern and she moved to him.

"Let me help you," she said softly, her hands on his arms to stop him from moving.

Zuko looked down at her, face set into a frown. "Mai, I can handle this."

"But you're in pain."

"I'm fine."

"Let me help you."

He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for her persistent defiance. The small ebb and flow of anger evoked a movement of warmth throughout his body. Mai felt the heat as her hand moved up his arm and she frowned.

"What is wrong with you Zuko?"

"It is none of your concern."

His disposition began to poke around the embers of her anger ad she glared at him. "Zuko, I want to help you," she said, her voice level and firm.

"I know," he sighed.

"Then let me." Her hands reached up to stroke his face and touch his scarred eye. His hand clamped around her wrist sharply and he pulled her to him; leaning down to her ear.

"Start, by leaving me alone."

He dropped her hand, tied the bonds of his garments then left; brushing passed her. Mai staggered back a step and just stared out the window. Her jaw worked convulsively and she swallowed. She wanted to cry. Each time he behaved like this, it broke down the tolerance she had built for it. And the compassion he often showed, saw to the vulnerability of her heart. Wiping her face, she walked out the room and went to the bathroom.

O.o.O.o

Zuko sat in his study, rocking back in his high-backed, leather chair. He dropped the paintbrush in its ink bottle on the table and ran a hand through his hair. The surface of his mahogany table was covered by stacks of papers and he felt intimidated by the lot. The windows were open, the heavy gold and deep red curtains pulled back to offer view of the outside. The sun was hidden, but in its absence, nature still pumped a vibrant energy; making it ebb and low in the atmosphere. White puffs layered themselves across the blue expanse of sky. But that energy, that life, it did not radiate through him. Zuko was tormented, he couldn't work. He wanted to begin but the drive was not there. There wasn't much noise in the mansion. The servants knew that his working hours were when the house was to be extremely silent. However, he didn't want silence. The reverberating tick-tock of the grandfather clock to the left of the room, only invoked a drugging and building tiredness. With each breath he took, his chest tightened. His eyelids drooped.

What he needed, wanted more than anything was…

O.o.O.o

**Ahh, so there's the first chapter; my mind spaced out during some of it. I wanted to do it over but I won't. I'll let it stay as it is. Hope you liked it. And Chapter two is in progression! =] **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I think it's about time I updated this story. My first chapter –sighs- honestly, it was crap but this second chapter might help to redeem me some and since I'm done with Finals, I can spend more time to really plan out what I'm doing before I write anything. So…**

**CHAPTER 2 EVERYONE! –applause-**

**(A/N: I inserted a place that doesn't exist in the Avatar world: Isis mountains; but it was just for creativity and to expand my content a little)**

Title: Caught in a Double Standard

Chapter 2

Author: Kyrian Cristie

"_Zuko don't, please!" _

The faint scream of his mother ricocheted off the walls of his mind. Eyes jerking open instantly, he shot up in the bed. The rush of blood made his head hurt, his body throbbed and he clutched at his chest. His face was in a grimace as he tried to slow his breathing to normality; to get his heartbeat to a steady pace. Slightly successful, he stared with a haunted look at his palms. They had been slick with blood, his mother's blood. Licking his lips, he flopped back on the bed – the sheets made damp by his sweat. Wiping his brow, he exhaled heavily then swallowed hard, his eyes surveying the room.

It was dimly lit and the space was small. The only pieces of furniture inside were a chair to the left of the bed and, a vanity that stood just to the far right of the entrance door. Palms flat against the bed, he pressed down and levered himself up. His body shook in protest and he released a breath from between lips which had been valiantly compressed in his effort. The door opened and before he could stop himself, his hand slung out; releasing a ball of fire that missed his intended target by much. It slammed against the wall, the cement bursting away on impact which left a gaping hole with jagged cracks going off like veins. The surprised scream made him arch a brow and he slowly lowered his hand. Who the hell was that? The voice sounded familiar, and angry, without a trace of fear.

Katara stared at the injured spot from which smoke still trailed away. Fearful surprise transitioned to full-blown anger. Didn't he know that attacking first then asking questions later was not an intelligent move? …At least not in all cases; but this was not one of them. Almost sure he would send a next blast if she pushed the door open any further, hesitance made her pause. But if he did send another, she would block it and yell at him later. With a sharp inhale to further confidence in her resolve, she pushed the door open and took stance; water already bended from the flask at her hip.

His eyes widened and he pushed his hair out his face. Blinking, his gaze became quizzical and he frowned.

"Katara? Why are you here?" His tone was clipped, uneven; almost unfriendly. Standing straight, her hand flexed; the water returning to its source and she capped the flask.

"Are you okay?" Whatever traces of anger were inside her at his offensive greeting, were replaced by worry and she slowly walked to him. He scoffed at the question, finding it rhetorical. After waking from a dream – no, a nightmare – in which he slaughtered his mother, after finding her, like some sick and ritualistic practice in front of a bloodthirsty nation? No, no he was far from okay. Licking his lips, he ran a hand down his damp face and nodded.

"Ya, I'm good."

His blatant lie made a fleeting look of disbelief cross her eyes. But, instead of pressing the issue; she decided to humor him and play the rule of the gullible fool. With a nod to confirm his answer, she sat in the chair at his bedside.

"How's your chest?"

Sighing, he shrugged noncommittally, "Hurts like hell, but I've had worst."

"Your medication doesn't work?"

"Hardly, I should fire those bastards."

His grumpy disposition usually served to amuse her some, but in this case she just felt sorry for him though there was still a small smile on her lips.

"Good thing you invited us then." A hand on his shoulder, she placed pressure on it to make him lie back.

"Invited you?" he repeated dumbly, eyes on her in a confused expression.

Katara looked at him strangely and nodded. He had sent the invitation in the last week, and they had been in Ba Sing Sei. Bumi had sent a request that they pay a short visit. The shortness had been prolonged by an addition of days on Aang's part. He'd wanted to further help the king in restoring an adequate amount of stability in spite the lot that still needed to be done. Zuko's invitation had come as a surprise since they had not too long ago left his residence. And that was a week before Bumi's call.

So she nodded reflectively as she uncapped the flask.

"Yeah you did? Don't you remember?"

It seemed asking rhetorical questions was a quick habit. "No, not really."

A small frown tugged at the left corner of her lips. They stared at each other for awhile, an awkward silence ensuing between them. His gaze was intense but, behind it, Katara sensed a haunted glint. There followed something of a magnetic pull between them, and it thickened the air with its intensity. She cleared her throat and broke the stare, becoming slightly uncomfortable at the contradicting feelings that began to dig itself from the far recesses of her mind in which she had buried them.

Touching his chest, directly above his heart, she pressed down a little and watched his face. It flinched with pain; his back arched involuntarily and a hiss issued from him.

"Dammit Katara."

He breathed heavily and looked at her face. She offered an apologetic look then bended the water from the flask. It had been brought specifically for him. Back in Ba Sing Sei, when they had been packing in preparation for their departure, she had slipped away to travail up the Isis mountains. There, Bumi had told her, was a stream that held special properties much similar to that of the Oasis'. It had taken her awhile to complete the trail, especially in light of the thick foggy conditions.

Though she had enhanced her own skill, knowing how to bend spiritual energy from her life force into the water to give it healing power, it proved better to just make the sacrifice for him. Her own energy was still much weaker than that of the potent water's capabilities.

Stopping her mind from zoning into its retrospective reverie, she placed her hands on his chest and inhaled deeply.

The feel of the sharp cold burnt him and he flinched, but stilled when she muttered in a stern tone that he stop moving. Dark eyes watched her, going over every facet – down to the tiniest detail – of her face. The button nose, heart-shaped and full lips which were slightly parted in invitation; how her long lashes formed fan-shaped shadows on her cheeks, defined by high cheek bones. His focus dropped to her dress, it was blue but a lighter shade of. It was designed in the style of a robe but was gathered to her right side with a flower at the center, embroidery done in an intricate design around it. The neckline was a deep V-shape and he caught himself, just before his eyes brushed view of her cleavage in his peripheral range.

He found a spot to focus on, just beyond her.

He exhaled slowly. His body felt heavy with sexual awareness but Zuko was more principled than that. He knew where to put boundaries, and Katara was off-limits to him. She belonged to Aang; the avatar then his enemy but now his best friend. To betray him was not a notion that he entertained. And while he was careful not to betray him physically, it was done mentally. Most times he couldn't avert the thoughts from building in his imagination. It was only a few times that he managed to discard them; and it was always done with reluctance.

Whenever they were in this setting – alone – their attraction to each other fringed the air.

Katara's concentration began to fade but she was almost through. She had felt Zuko's gaze, had almost squirmed from the intensity of it. But, in some way, she managed to channel all her focus on his chest – the muscle tension and pain there – and ease his suffering.

The vibration of his blood flow, the steadiness of it shifted. It was faster. Blood was moving in one direction. And downward. The significance of that fact made a nerve tic in her hands and, feeling the building heat of his body she moved her hands away and stared down at him. She blinked once, twice.

"Sorry," he said; his voice gruff and he turned his eyes from hers; almost guiltily. Hank the gods his lower half was covered by thick sheets which more than satisfied him in hiding the brute evidence of his desires.

Katara nodded and scooted back the chair a little, the legs grated against the hardwood floor.

"I was done anyway." She offered a quick smile and stood to her feet. Hands on the front of her dress, she brushed the soft material as if to get rid of any dirt. He lifted to sit in an upright position. His chest suffered no spasms and a genuine smile relaxed the rigid set of his face.

"You're still of worth."

His dry humor was not lost on her, but she rolled her eyes and scoff, a hand on her hip.

"And you're still full of sh—"

He was out the bed and before her, cutting her words abruptly. His speed was shocking, too fluid – like quicksilver; surreal even. She staggered a step back reflexively.

"Still full of what?" he smirked, a dark and amused glint to his gaze. His tone was challenging, prodding her to continue.

"Full of…" she trailed off; the proximity between them too close and distracting for her to complete her snide comeback.

He smiled then and leaned in a little closer, causing her to have to tip her head a little to look at him.

"I thought so." His final words to her, Zuko left the room. Deep, blue eyes followed him until his back disappeared down the hall. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. Her heart was still reeling from their closeness. The silence of the mansion made her ears ring a little, but then distantly, she heard voices.

Looking around for a moment, she then moved to the lamp above the vanity and blew the light out.

About to leave the room, she stopped short as a sharp change in the air held her immobile for a moment. It was laced with an ominous presence, the hairs on her skin stood on end from the effect. Slowly, timely, she uncapped the flask then turned sharply and gasped when her wrist was caught in a sharp and steely grip. The water plashed to the floor and she glared at him.

"You haven't rusted a bit."

Her eyes widened and her mouth went dry; a slight tremor of fear passing through her.

"I thought" –

"That I would have rotted in prison?" he sounded amused; his tone chilling and cold. It pitched a sinking feeling inside her. The moon's light only enhanced his silhouette but she needed none to see the cynical look he pinned her with.

"Why are you here?"

He released her hand and moved to the door, hand flat against it, he pushed it closed. The sound of the latch made her flinch and she stepped back warily as he came to face her again.

"To ask a favor. And you will not object."

O.o.O.o

Zuko paced in his room. When he had left Katara, he had seen Aang and Sokka walking along the ground floor's hall. They had spoken only for a short while – nothing of significance; except one. His invitation. The subject had been deliberately discarded when he was with Katara. Maybe she thought he was feigning oblivion, but he just didn't recall ever sending them an invitation. And why would he so quickly. Why send an invitation, two weeks prior their visit with Bumi? It made no sense, and he had no need for them to be back with him so suddenly.

He sat on his bed, ignorant to the fact that Mai was missing from his room. Hands resting on his knees, he stared off at nothing in particular as his mind still tried to come up with a solution; but more questions only surfaced.

Who would have sent that invitation? And why?

O.o.O.o

**The second chapter was not where I planned for the plot to start unfolding but…the pen defied my orders _ but still, I surprised even myself. Finished writing the last two pages after watching Pirates 4. Damn epic! Anyway, hoped you liked this chapter and I shall be back with more, just as soon as I feed myself…and relieve my blank mind.**


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